The Apache kept on for at least half an hour, keeping at this pace. The helicopter suddenly lurched, the deep fog below usual of the valleys here. It came in for a landing, in a small dirt field, the pilot a skilled and co-ordinated expert at this, or so it seemed. Ross unclipped himself and dropped the last meter rather lucidly, the armor not helping when he hit the dirt, and he got back to his feet, as the pilot held it in position.
"Our asset's left behind a specialized vehicle for you, Knight, directly to our north, bang on from this landing zone. This is your stop." The Apache pilot simply said, as Ross looked over to Carl, nodding as he looked around, checking the area with his Mk48.
"We're clear, Whiskey Six. Thanks for the heads up." Ross replied over the comms, as he flung out his arm-mounted GPS, already looking over.

"That way." Ross simply said, pointing north to Carl as they moved up, the fog thick as anything here, and probably impossible to fly in, if it wasn't for the size of the pilot's balls. Walking on over, Ross saw the small shack come into view, and the small outhouse connected. This place was abandoned, no doubt. Taking a chem light from the top of his chest rig, Ross snapped the thing and bunged it forward, the light shining through the fog as he walked into the small shell of the shack, smirking as he went inside. There was half a roof to this place but no fourth wall, so it seemed like a perfect hidey-hole.

"How the fuck they got this here...it's a fucking Advanced Light Support Vehicle, a buggy no less. Titanium frame, looks lightened out, there's hardly anything to it. Wait, hold on. What the fuck have they done to this thing?" Ross said, going to the roof, finding a pair of karabiners, and a rucksack of sorts attached. A Mk19 sat mounted on the back seat, with the seat at the front taken out and instead replaced by a steel floor- further lightening the load.
"This is the Flying Devil alright. Holy, Fuck!" Ross said, cackling, tapping it on the bullbar, walking around.
"Bagsy driving! It's got a fucking parasail, we can get airborne real quick if we get some flat ground. Try and raid the place...if the fog's bad, use your thermals to pick a route through it and fucking storm right in. Drive out of the town with all three SEALS aboard, get back here, and call whatever extraction we can. Shitting hell, I am so fucking glad I maintained that paraglider training. This thing weighs at least 700kg, and that parasail will have to be large, but no doubt the engine is tweaked out. Just have to get the prop out...damn. Help me push this thing, Carl." He said, looking over as he walked to the back, already beginning to push.
"This is so fucking James Bond, no fucking way this is happening. That's got a 2.0 litre four cylinder engine, supercharged no less, I guess it'd have to throw out 300bhp...plus. It can throw out a hell of a lot of horsepower, it might be a little tricky transfering from air to ground. Got to switch the power output and all...shit, there we are." Ross said, as the ALSV was pushed out of the abandoned house, Ross smirking under his armor, albeit sweating like hell from the exertion. He grabbed the rucksack and pulled out the parasail, pulling it completely out in it's entirety. It was a lot of sail, but they needed this to stay airborne- it was 500kg of weight, plus at least 300kg of armored British and Canadian soldiers, the Mk19 and the propeller added to that. Putting the handbrake on, he pulled a polymer prop out of the back of the ALSV and attached it to the rear, fixing it onto a hard point above the engine- this was surreal, and how it would work, he didn't know. No doubt the parachute controls were different to the car's, and he'd need to get Carl to possibly 
"Okay, bugger. Getting this sail up is going to be hard, we'll need to drive out of this town no doubt. Alright Carl, I'll get the engine started, I need you to pull out the parasail as far as you can and hold it up to a degree. I'll need to get it up, then you need to run in."

"Once we're airborne, I'll check the GPS and see what route we can do in, but if I'm correct, the Mosque is a pretty open place. We might be able to fucking baller into there, completely surprise them. Why drive through the front gate when you can drop on them like an Eagle? The fog and the night is pretty bad, so while it'll be like flying with no visibility. Your thermals will be key, mate- tell me vaguely how close we are to mauling ourselves and I'll keep it to mind." Ross said, as he got inside, looking back.
"Ready?" He asked, firing up the engine, aware that the propeller would kick soon. Grabbing the toggles from the rucksack, he pulled them down and revved the engine, aware that Carl was going to run and jump aboard, once this thing got moving- in order to make sure that they had the sufficient lift to get airborne.